Like overbrewed sencha
by MonAlice
Summary: Post BDM.Inara needs to decide about her future, while the crew especially Zoe have to deal with post-Miranda changes.Had to change a pairing a bit, but this is NOT MEANT as a femslash story.Just the angsty side of life that needs to be dealt with
1. Decisionmaking is pain

**Like ****over-brewed Sencha.**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything except my computer an the contents of this story that is at least a bit original. Sadly the characters aren't mine, I just toy with them while Joss isn't looking.I'll return them unscathed, or the hell breaks loose just like the last time I took Wash's stegosaurus. Geez.

**Characters: **Inara, Mal, Zoe, Crew

**Rating:** T for now, possible M in future.

**Chapter w****arnings:** Some possibly inaptly used Chinese vocab (all explained though). I mean I did my homework, but I'm not a God (yet) so I make mistakes :)

**Chapter wordcount : 1098**

**Chapter 1**

**Decision-making is pain**

"_You ready to get off this heap and back to the civilized life?"- he asked_

"_I__, uh…"-he stopped, looking at her questioningly –" I don't know"-she finished a bit lamely._

_He smiled at her, giving her heart a flutter ._

"_Good answer"-he told her 'fore heading of towards the bridge._

Inara was seated crossed-legged on a little mat spread on the cold floor of- what was formerly known as- her shuttle.The sencha scented steam from a tea pot, was curling up around the room, ascending almost divinely- entwining her body and thoughts. Everybody else was either celebrating or mourning- each of them in their own way- but she felt the need for some solitude right now. She needed calm and stillness around her to sort through things, the way she had been taught to. Actually, what she needed was… serenity. Which was quite ironic really, given that her decision making concerned also the vessel bearing the very name. Trying to relax she focused on a quite recent image of herself painting Serenity's name on the hull, and on how elated she felt standing there on the canvas, with the desert wind brushing her cheeks, just as she was rhythmically caressing the ship's side with a brush of her own. There and then she felt so close to a certain Malcolm Reynolds. Closer then ever.

Breathing in the scent of the already ignited incense, she cleared her mind of all the tension and unwelcome influence, trying to purify herself before creating the sacred space.

Her right hand holding the incense stick drew a small circle around her. Then she poured the tea into a small _chabei _and spilled several drops of it on the mat, silently inviting the _shenmen _to join her. The _chaguan _was placed back at the pot warmer, and now both scents: warm sencha and patchouli_ xiang_ swirled in the air like a breath of divine inspiration.

Still, no matter what inspiration she might get, Inara knew that the final decision would have to be her own.

After all it was often said that the gods help them that help themselves, was it not?

With her mind freed from any outer influence, her thoughts were flowing mightily faster now.

She was weighing the options- those heavily ripe and almost expectant possibilities for the near future- trying to balance them on the scales in her mind.

She didn't promise to stay. She didn't say she'd go either.

There on one scale was a man she loved- something she could admit freely now, even if only in the safety of her own mind. He was a (semi)honest and (mostly) honorable man living his hard earned dream. Even if the said dream involved a lot of salvaging , shooting and escaping near death experiences, she still admired him for who he was, and how he conducted himself through life. _D__ang ran_ she would never speak of this admiration with him, nor with any other crew member, even if River probably knew about it already. Still, she did realize that letting him in would mean opening up to a whole new 'verse of possibilities, happiness and sedation ranking high among them.

On the other hand she considered herself a Companion, from the very day she turned twelve and started her training. And the title itself was more of a calling really, than a job description. Against popular belief Companions were more than only well paid, decadently elegant and snobbishly educated whores. Granted- their training gave them a worldly veneer, and they did indeed work with their bodies. However, what the public eye remained oblivious of, were other aspects of their education, encompassing such subjects as elementary psychology or mind and soul healing. Many girls accepted in the Academy were at least slightly gifted Readers, and in any case all of them were taught how to read and help the human psyche, using the energy of one's own body. Surely the service performed often involved sex, but as a trained Companion was also a priestess of the Gods, the mere intercourse was never the sole purpose of an encounter with a client. Of course, this was not a fact that was widely advertised, as The Guild was as much a business venture as a religious organization, and keeping up the pretences of a highly sublimed escort agency gave the business side of it, all the buzz and prestige it needed. But this was also a reason why the Guild Law decreed that the Companions could choose their own clients from the register, the subtle hint behind that was that mostly the ones being chosen should be those, in a true need of Companion's attention. The Law was even flexible enough to allow taking not enlisted clients, if such a need would arise, another thing that was not greatly advertised for the same obvious reasons.

These thoughts kept swirling in her, as the smoke and steam-filled air did around her.

Her decision was there– ready in her mind now, almost set, and almost final, but still trembling uncertainly.

The doubts needed to be cleared fast, and that meant she would be needing some spiritual guidance after all.

She picked a small clay board- one side of it pasted with writing paper- and laid it before her, next to the bowl of ink and a slim brush.From a newly filled _chabei _of hot tea, she sprinkled some drops on her own forehead, then on the board, and into the ink, downing the rest of it in one take. It tasted of a bitterly over-brewed _sencha_, but she guessed this was what this particular choice tasted like. Then with the brush, she wrote starting from the top of the board:_ li_ for strength, _xi xiang _for mind , _xin_ for heart, _jue ding_ for decision, and _zheng zhao_ for a sign. She traced the same movements in the air, with a still burning incense stick She bowed silently praying for a sign, and then snapped the board in half . Would her plea be heard, she'd have to burn the board completely, and bring some offering to the shenmen, as it was in custom.

She cleared and open the circle, thanking the spirits for their attendance. She knew well, now she could only wait for the events to unfold. And they would soon enough- she suspected.

The knock at the door came quite suddenly, but she was ready for it. She looked up to see Mal's flustered face, knowing that this would be her expected answer then. Very well, now she knew.

Vocabulary:

sencha- a kind of a Japanese green tea

_chabei _(cha2bei1) 茶杯 – a tea cup

_shenmen_(shen2men) 神们- gods, spirits

_chaguan_(cha2guan4) 茶罐- tea pot

_xiang_ (xiang1) 香-incense or _xian xiang_ (xian4xiang1) 線香- stick incense

_dang ran _(dang1ran2)当然- of course, obviously

**A/N** 1.First I had an idea for a post BDM Inara-centered fic, and then I happened across the lj fffriday community prompt number 205 ' Something bitter-tasting', which seemed to be oddly 'nsync with what I had in mind for my ficlet.

As the required word count was a bit too short for my whole story, I decided I could at least post the first chapter as the answer, and I would have done so successfully, were it not for my web connection that decided to bail on me from last Friday throughout the whole weekend.

So instead I'm posting this here (among other places).

2.Now it may be my over-assumption, but I found toying with the idea of the Guild, as a (semi)religious organization, rather then just a prostitute union - quite exciting.

The references in the series/movie material are vague(and I have no books on the subject), but I gather that there is at least some sort of a High Priestess persona involved in this whole enterprise. That and Inara's conduct throughout the series, the way she talks to Book for example, gives him advice –as one priest to another. On Wikipedia Inara is said to be a Buddhist, but a) burning incense in front of a Buddha statue does not make one a Buddhist b) she strikes me more a mix of Shintoand a western pagan priestess , and this is how I write her.

3. The quote at the beginning comes from the shooting script, and I assume that it's the same as in the movie

Hope you enjoyed my take on the 'verse, and will be here for the second chapter.

Reviews are love, reviews are shiny, and if you criticize be constructive rather then unpleasant. Thanks! :)


	2. Death in plastic

**Like Over-brewed Sencha 2**

Hello. It took me a while but I'm back again. The story got a bit detoured, as I incorporated what was originally meant as a complimentary Zoe piece into it. Still I felt the picture I was building was missing this part, so here it is. Story will rather remain Inara centric, but her life and choices do revolve around others, and there is loads of stuff to sort through before the crew can go back to normal again.

**Disclaimer:**No sadly, I still don't own it, and Joss is boss.

_From Chapter 1_

_The knock at the door came quite suddenly, but she was ready for it._

_She looked up to see Mal's flustered face, knowing that this would be her expected answer then._

_Very well, now she knew._

**Chapter 2**

**Death in plastic **

It was around the middle of artificially created night, when Zoe woke up with a start, and listened carefully for her husband's breath. It was nowhere to be heard, even if his scent lingered somewhere real close.

She closed her eyes reasoning he probably only went as far as the cockpit to check on their course. He always did that, mostly so whenever it was Jayne's turn to have a night shift.

He said he could never trust the Neanderthal not to tamper with Serenity's controls , but she secretly suspected that the real problem was, what the said cave man could do to Wash's precious little polyester dinosaurs. Often did she try to talk him into bringing the toys back to their bunk whenever he was not on duty, but he argued that the cockpit was the place where they thrived and ruled and that was final. 'Sides, his nightly walks had nothing to do with the dinos( the proper term being action figures, not toys-mind you)- they were merely a necessary safety measure meant for the crew's well-being and she was just being unreasonably mean claiming otherwise.

_Dang ren_, she agreed quite easily to drop the slippery subject for the time being, knowing well that it was just the matter of time till his actions would prove her right. When it happened she could tease him mercilessly to her heart's content, something she was already expecting with much of eagerness. She had no doubt it was bound to occur sooner or later- in fact- **this** could be the very night.

Still closed-eyed she stretched her body, and sat up on the bed smiling smugly. She let her feet fall to the ground and opened her eyes, only to be assaulted by harsh and sudden realization that her husband was no more alive than his herd of- retro-to-the-point-of-extinction- plastic buddies, and that his lingering smell had no other source than his shirt she was currently wearing 'stead of a nightgown. First nightgown she owned in the long time- she thought semi-bitterly-- remembering how they used to (among other things) sleep naked.

Still like entranced she continued out of their…her bunk, and further towards the cockpit. Corridor was sunk in shadows, the only light source being the emergency panels, and the warm illumination originating from the bridge.

Her lips felt dry- both on the in and outside. Her conscious mind knew he could not possibly be sitting there , and yet she couldn't stop her feet from tiptoeing cautiously as if not to scare away the suddenly appeared engulfing feeling of warmth. She knew she needed his humor- his twisted way of making her feel better. She needed him. She's been always considered the strong one, but to tell the truth she felt pathetically weak without him.

Even today, on the job, she had been so sluggish she got Mal shot in the arm- something old Zoe would have foreseen, prevented and mocked the captain about for weeks. But she's gotten slower lately- wound up in a tight, woolen cocoon of her sorrow. Mal noticed of course, but didn't say anything yet- not even after today's complications . It was Jayne who wanted to voice some doubts after the job, but Mal timely engaged him into an argument about some petty gun issue, rendering mercenary momentarily harmless. No, the captain himself was very silent around her- only gave her his trademark worried-and-yet-capitainy look, which somehow was even worse. Being target of captain's anger you can either wallow in self pity or get angry in return. Being a target of one concerned if slightly accusative look was a different matter all together. You could only go as far as wallowing and guilt tripping having received one of these looks, and she liked neither one, nor the other , even if she seemed to be doing a lot of both lately. Where were her famous calm and stoicism now?-she wondered. Which brought her back to the "I need him to reassure me, that the 'verse is still our fully prepped protein pack" line of thinking yet again.

Silently she walked into the control room, where someone was sitting in the pilot chair, light considerably brightening the top of not much of a blond head. A tiny, delicate hand was resting protectively over a lying Allosaurus. Obviously she could hardly see more with the backrest being there, but the elements noncompliant with memories she carried, were all undoubtedly there. Still it was so easy to color 'em up in her mind into a deeply desired picture of 'the before'- as they all came to call the time prior Miranda.

She stood there motionless for a while, scared to even breath and let this shiny illusion fade away, when suddenly she felt Serenity shudder from a loud outer impact, which was followed by a strangely girlish shriek from the pilot's seat. Wordlessly she lunged forward, and even though she saw River's frame slumped down on the floor- her tiny pale forehead sporting three blood streaks starting from the hair line ("Poor kid must have bumped the dash board hard"- the thought appeared as by itself), it was something completely different that rapidly drew her attention.

River was rubbing her forehead, and while at that she let go of a blood covered Allosaurus. It's counterpart- the Stegosaurus having probably fallen from the dashboard during the impact- was now lying discarded merely a half foot away from the first dinosaur, specks of blood all over it. Or was it the red-brownish paint? It sure looked like blood.

Blood. Fresh blood on the lifeless dinosaurs lying on the cockpit floor.

It looked just like the last time.

She started shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering loudly. Her legs buckled and she felt herself falling. Falling down physically, but also speeding towards nothingness when short eruption of pain in the back of her scull, sent her into complete darkness.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Inara nodded to the captain, as he entered the shuttle.

"'Nara… – he stopped there as if unsure how to proceed further. She on the other hand viewed him quite unfazed. – "Yes Mal? What capitainy purpose has called upon you to barge- well after midnight I might add- into this humble abode that is almost mine?" – she gasped raising her voice dramatically, for some reason deciding to fall back into this well practiced teasing routine, even though her anxiousness about the news he was a messenger of, was already kicking in. She did that for mental safety reasons undoubtedly.

In return he glared at her in a mix of an angry-yet-pouty-captain-face.

– "Remember I still didn't promise you could use the shuttle again, so for the time being 'almost' is purely a supposition on your part, m'lady " he bent forward in a mockery of a courteous bow, just before turning solemn again –" Anyway it's about Zoe. She's in the med bay- unconscious, and the good doctor claims she's catatonic."- he continued, voice tired and raspy. – " He also says something that I found pretty much uncanny, you see." –Mal's eyes bore into hers for a moment. – "Figure this, he claims he needs **your** help to proceed with the treatment"- he eyed her half pleadingly, half suspiciously.

She could see he didn't quite comprehend Simon's request, but he hoped against his better judgment, she would somehow be able to make things better. And he was worried. A lot. She could tell because as in any case of a graver sort of predicament, he dropped their regular verbal sparring after marking only few mediocre blows. Now he was just standing there holding his mouth firmly shut, letting her to rummage through her herb supplies. No witty remarks spat, no biting comebacks shed. This was serious.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Dang ren_- Of course

So why does such a genius doctor like Simon need Inara's help? Tune in for the next installment due to follow. And you know you want to push the review button. :)


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